


Let me save You...

by MrsHolmesWatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Case, Cab, Cheating, Hotels, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, Kidnapping, Lies, London, More tags to be added, No Mary Morstan, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Sacrifice, Suffering, Warehouse, Wounds, game, gun - Freeform, husband, pinning, risk, row, wife - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:00:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHolmesWatson/pseuds/MrsHolmesWatson
Summary: Sherlock and John are on a seemingly simple case. As they get a mysterious message inviting them back to the crime scene, their problems are just about to begin, with no hope for help. Soon, they have to fight for their lives choosing between living or saving one another...It is my first fic, so please comment and let me know what you think, but don't be cruel. I promise to work on improving as the chapters will continue. :)





	1. A message

“I hate it. It must be somewhere in front of my nose, but I just keep missing it.” Sherlock said and leaned back at the sofa.

“Oh, Sherlock. It’s not a big deal. Even the great Sherlock Holmes isn’t perfect. Besides, as I know you, you’ll figure it all out before lunchtime.”

“It’s different John… It’s not about my brilliance or the lack of it. It is just the feeling, that the answer keeps sweeping through my fingers.”

“Ok.” John sighted. “So let’s start from the beginning.” He took the seat in his armchair with a cup of tea in his hand. “Two days ago Vivianne Minford reported that her husband went missing.”

“Boring. We already know that it was all a part of a plan. He was supposed to vanish into thin air in order to ensure his lover Louise and himself a fresh start in Glasgow, where she was from. We also know that it was kind of a favour to his wife, Vivianne, because he was anything but a good husband, and after these idiots from Scotland Yard would assume that he was dead, Vivianne would get a quite amusing sum from Bob’s life insurance.”

“There is one “but”. Why did the “idiots from Scotland Yard” actually find Bob’s body in a hotel room just a stone throw from Vivianne’s flat?”

“I assume it is just a rethorical question. Otherwise it might only mean that you’re even worse at deducing things than I thought.” Said Sherlock with what John would call a cheeky smile. “The most obvious scenario is a betrayed wife, who finds out about her husband’s romance and kills him in a hotel room, reporting him missing afterwards in order to seem an innocent, concerned, loving wife. The problem is that she had no idea about Louise, no experience with gun and, let’s be honest – she is basically too stupid to think of something like this.”

“Sherlock!” John yelled with annoyance. “She’s just lost her husband. Since we already know that she is innocent, You might show her just a little bit of…”

“Compassion? Was that what You were about to suggest?”

“I’m not a fool. Respect. Respect should be something… easier for You, so to say.”

Just as Sherlock was about to say something in a riposte, a phone rang.  
  
_There is something You should see. Meet me at the hotel._

“This’d better be good. Lestrade awaits us at the hotel where the victim was found. Consedering, that we have already been there twice, I see no point in going.” Said Sherlock, approaching the window.

“This really frustrates You, doesn’t it?” – said John with a smirk. “Not knowing, I mean. This bothers you.”

“Oh, come on. Just stop fussing around and better get going.”

“Wait, what? You said…”

“That it’s not worth my time, exactly. Go and check it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Either we both go together, or we stay. I won’t be your dogsbody. And since it is obvious, that you won’t let go, cause you still have no idea how to solve this case…”

  
They both exchanged short looks. John amused with himself, Sherlock content and impressed in a sense. That was exactly how he liked his blogger – sassy and roguish. They both headed outside without even a word. Sherlock hailed a cab just as quickly, as always. As they were sitting in the cab Sherlock closed in his mind palace, John started wondering about their arrangement at the hotel. Was there anything new they could probably learn from a crime scene they have already seen twice, not to mention having all the photos and files connected with it all over walls at Baker Street? Whatever they were going to come across might be planted, logically thinking, cause it’s been quite long since the body was found, and the hotel was obviously a public place. Even so, Greg wouldn’t make Sherlock go to a different part of the city for no reason. Wait a minute…

“Sherlock?” John asked softly but firmly.

“What is it?” Sherlock, as expected, wasn’t to fond of leaving his mind palace.

“You said that Lestrade asked us to come, right? The thing is, that he is visiting his friend in Bristol this weekend, so…”

“It’s either a prank, which is quite improbable, or it’s an invitation from the killer himself. Exciting, isn’t it? And before you’ll ask: no, I wasn’t going to let you go there on your own. Let’s say that it was an experiment.”

  
With that being said, they got to the address given, with no time for further discussion. John felt a bit taken aback, as always after realising how far ahead Sherlock always is with his whole “deducing thing”. Thankfully John might not have these kind of abilities, but he still has some habits from the army and he had taken his gun from the flat. If it was really an invitation from the murderer it might come in handy.

  
The hall was actually not too busy – there was only the receptionist an a couple of guests sitting on the sofa, reading some newspapers. Sherlock seemed to be focused on getting to the right apartment and facing whoever was behind that all. Clearly, lack of answers was too annoying for him to be cautious. As they were in the lift, John had that gut feeling, that they shouldn’t have even entered that hotel.

“You know Sherlock… It doesn’t seem right. I… I believe we shouldn’t go in there alone. Actually, we had better head back to Baker Street, or something.”

“You can leave, if that’s what you prefer. Nevertheless, I’m going to get my answers here. With or without you, John.” Sherlock was not only perfectly calm, but also internally excited. As the lift stopped, he added: “It’s our floor, if you’d like to join.” And he headed right to the apartment.

  
Sure – John thought. What was he actually hoping for with a man ready to swallow a poison pill just to prove that he is clever! At that point John was agitated. Everything seemed to be telling him to take them both out of that damn hotel, but clearly there was nothing he could do. He took his gun out and braced himself for whatever was coming, trying to convince himself that it might be a prank after all…

  
The corridor seemed to be longer than John had remembered. As he saw a maid exiting one of the rooms, carrying some sheets, he quickly hid his gun behind his back. She looked tired and rather bored, but she smiled at John. It was nothing, just a sign of politeness, but at that moment it made John feel even more uncomfortable. Finally they got there. Room 1207. After exchanging a short look with John, Sherlock entered the apartment.

  
It was perfectly clean and quiet. There was nothing interesting in there. Just a regular hotel room. Still, John stayed cautious as Sherlock was looking around, disappearing in different rooms.  
“John?” he called from the bathroom “There is something in he…” before he finished his sentence John heard a dull thud.

  
John hurried to the bathroom to see Sherlock lying on the floor, but before he got to do anything, out of the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of someone approaching and suddenly everything went black…

 


	2. A bit not good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sherlock meets their capturer, John remains unconscious for much too long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the second chapter. I hope You'll enjoy it and leave me some feedback below. It is Your opinion that fuels me, so please let me know if You'd like to read some more. ;)

It was awfully cold, humid, and… Quiet. Sherlock’s head was pulsing with pain, which obviously was his capturer’s job. From what he could gather it was just a minor injury, nothing to worry about. He should soon forget about the whole incident and might even laugh at this with… John! Where was he? Focus, Sherlock. He suddenly realised, that he had his eyes closed this whole time… From what he could deduct without opening his eyes he must have been held in a kind of a basement. Cold, concrete floor under him, a specific smell in the room, and the low temperature. He had his hands bound behind his back. “A bit not good” Sherlock thought.

“Nice to see you awake, mister Holmes” said a deep, calm voice from a different corner of the room. “No need to hide and play games, I can say that you are awake from your breathing, no use in keeping your eyes shut.” he continued “Sorry for the inconvenience, I hope you don’t mind.”

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and started scanning the room. Just as he expected, they were in a basement, in a room of approximately 35 square metres. It was probably an old industrial building, which gave him no clue about their location though, since there were many buildings of that kind all around London. He quickly spotted John lying on the floor just few steps to his right. Knocked unconscious, but breathing steadily. No blood to be seen – so far so good. The voice was coming from a dark corner of the room, so Sherlock couldn’t see the speaker. Nevertheless he couldn’t overlook a pane creating a transparent wall. “What do you want?” he asked sharply.

A loud laugh came in response. “I had expected you to be kinder, mister Holmes. Anyway, if you’d really want to know my plans, there is no need to worry – the sooner you know them, the quicker we can start.” Judging by his voice, the man must have been in his mid-forties. He had a good British accent, definitely had spend most of his life in London, but he had some bent for north-sounding vowels (temporary living in Scotland?). “We’re going to play a little game. Since your mind, mister Holmes, can’t stand boredom, I’ll take care of making it thrilling, rest assured. In order to start, you’ll have to know the basics, so here you go: first of all, only one of you two can play at a time. It is all up to you whose turn it is. I mean… You can consult your little friend, but the final decision belongs to you, mister Holmes.  Second of all, I will accept no cheating or any kind of escape approaches. As for now, it is all you need to know.”

“A game, you say? Did Moriarty pay you to do this?” Sherlock was starting to get agitated, but succeeded in not showing any of that to his interlocutor, his voice remaining cold and his face blank.

“I don’t work for anybody.” said the man, with a sense of disgust. “Besides you should have figured it all out by now, after all you are the great Sherlock Holmes, prove yourself.”

In that very second everything became clear. “Bob Minford. He was working for you. Louise was not his lover, but actually his partner in crime. Bob has been working for you for quite a long time which explains his marriage issues – after all who would like to live with a contract killer. He must have owed you something, so when you announced, that you had a long-term job for him to do in Glasgow (where you already work, according to your accent), he couldn’t say no. The insurance was a way of showing his still existing affection to his wife and willingness to ensure her the best he could. One thing he didn’t think about was the fact, that the insurance company would have to look into his case before paying out the money and thus they could probably discover some inconvenient facts endangering your business, so Louise must have taken care of the “problem”.”  


“And in this exact moment you step in and start nosing around.” The man interrupted “As I see it’s true what they say about you, mister Holmes. Considering that, I’m sure you understand, that I couldn’t let you discover anything unpleasant and I decided to resolve this problem in person.”

“Why didn’t you kidnap only me then? Two missing people is something more alarming, than a single disappearance.” Sherlock tried to make the situation somewhat better for John, hoping that it won’t do any harm to ask seemingly for sake of logical point of view, nothing more.

“Let’s call it a fallout. But to be perfectly honest, I’m glad for this little plot-twist, because as far as my sources are concerned, doctor Watson is not indifferent to you, mister Holmes. This adds a little spice to our encounter. But don’t worry, as I said before – all decisions are up to you, mister Holmes, so doctor Watson’s fate completely depends on you.”

“Why don’t you finally tell me what you are about to do?” At this point Sherlock’s patience was wearing thin. Not only didn’t he know what were they about to face, but he also started worrying, why John hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Was there something he missed while checking John’s state?

“You’re anything but patient, aren’t you?” the man was amused. “Let me just show you then. From your friend’s state I presume, that you are the volunteer of this round? Come then.” The man made a few steps forward into the light, approaching the door of  huge pane-wall. Just as Sherlock thought, he was a man in his mid-forties, well built, just a bit taller than John. Judging from his suit he was rather well-off and had a good taste in fashion. No wife, a dog, two (no, wait), three lovers. His light green eyes would seem totally blank for an amateur, nevertheless Sherlock immediately noticed his bent for cruelty. He nonchalantly opened the transparent door, inviting Sherlock to the other part of the room.

Sherlock tried to figure out their chances to escape. No windows make only one way out of the room – door, guarded by four men currently smoking outside. He’ll have to figure out something later, rather sooner than later actually… Why was John still unconscious?

“Let me introduce you to your new friends” said the man, knocking on the main door. Two bruisers entered, ready to follow their boss’ orders.

Two against one, hands bound behind his back, no way of escaping, John still unconscious… “Shit.”

 

 

 


	3. Round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally regains consciousness, but he wishes he didn't...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my long absence, but I've had quite an intense time on my uni. The thing is, that this story still lives within me, so I'd love to share it sooner or later. I can't promise regularity, but I can promise passion. Leave some comments, let me know how You liked it and if it's worth continuing. ;)

Some strange noises started to reach him, as he was slowly waking up, his head pulsing with pain. What’s happened? John tried to get to the last memory he had before waking up… Suddenly it all got to him. The hotel, Sherlock lying unconscious on the floor, and then… nothing. They were kidnapped – not that John hadn’t anticipated that. If only Sherlock wanted to listen… “We’ll argue about that later.” John made a quick mental note, as he was becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. It was alarmingly cold, but apart from that and the headache, he didn’t find anything to worry about in his state. He desperately wanted to check on Sherlock, but the subdued noise implied, that he wasn’t alone and that it might be safer to pretend being asleep for the time being. After what seemed like an eternity, the noises stopped, and John heard a door opening.  He tried to focus on distinguishing all the sound in order to gather as much useful information, as possible, not letting out the fact, that he has been awake for a while now.   
  
2 or 3 men entered, all of them breathing heavily, clearly having done something physically exhausting. One of them was laughing in a weird, a bit spooky manner. They were dragging something into the room and threw it down to the left from John. Only then had he realised the worst – it was Sherlock, probably severely beaten by the capturers. However he could not get to his friend yet, since he couldn’t predict the reaction of the bruisers, and risking being beaten up wasn’t an option (he would be no use for Sherlock then). As it turned out, it was easier said than done, since the men were not satisfied yet, and started kicking Sherlock lying on the ground and moaning with pain. The pain in Sherlocks voice, and the mad laugh of the bruisers was too much, John couldn’t pretend that nothing was happening.  He got up and run towards the predators at lightning speed, and tried to push them away from Sherlock (which was more difficult than he anticipated, because of his hands bound behind his back).

“Look who’s finally joined us” said one of them. “Do you fancy playing with us?” he asked brushly.

“Back off” John thundered, and knelt down next to Sherlock trying to check on his state. “Untie me, I have to help him.” John turned on the army-doctor mode, using the peremptory tone. He expected they wouldn’t do anything, or just treat him as they treated Sherlock, but didn’t care anymore. They could beat him, if it would mean leaving Sherlock alone. He couldn’t stand the thought that all that time he did nothing to help him, acting like a coward. He was roused out of his thoughts by one of the men cutting the rope binding John’s hands. When John had his hands free, the men just exited the room. It didn’t make any sense, but he had more pressing thing to deal with than wondering about that – starting with getting rid of the rope binding Sherlock’s hands.

“Sherlock, are you with me?” he asked softly, but firmly, scanning his friend’s body in search for injuries and checking his pulse. “Sherlock, talk to me.”

“It’s ok, John.” he murmured.

“No, it isn’t. You’ve been just beaten unconscious, and we can not be sure about your internal state. You need to tell me how you feel, and **what** you feel.”

“A bit not good, nothing major, need rest” Sherlock whispered. He was slowly passing out, which only made John more concerned. He unzipped his jacket and put it under Sherlock’s head.

“I’ll get us out of here, I promise. Just rest for now, and I’ll try to figure things out” said John, more to himself than to Sherlock who was already unconscious, curled up on the floor. The good thing was, that Sherlock didn’t consider his state alarming. John knew, that Sherlock’s been through much worse, so is he says it’s nothing major, it is nothing major. Not that it made John feel less concerned, but at least he could assume, that they have some more time to work on an escape plan.

Focus, John – he said to himself. What would Sherlock deduce about this place, how can we escape?? He stood up and started looking around. A basement. That’s obvious. Quite big, with the strange looking glass wall. Hmm… This place is not random. Our kidnapper has either prepared is especially for us, which is not really probable, or has already used before. There are no windows, only one door… Shit, it won’t be easy.

“John?” Sherlock moaned, trying to sit up.

“Don’t! Lie down, please.” John hurried to the corner where his friend was. “You should try to rest and minimalize the damage.”

“John, I should have listened to you back at the hotel. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t…” he started, but before managed to finish, John interrupted him:

“Sherlock. For once you didn’t leave me behind, jeopardizing your life without any backup. I’m not saying, that I turned out to be much help, letting them do this to you” John flinched at the very thought that he might have done something to save Sherlock some pain... “but at least we’re in this together, right? We’ll figure it out.” At this point John was trying to convince himself that it was exactly what was about to happen. “Now tell me, what I missed. What's happened here?”

For a moment Sherlock was just staring at John, with a blank face. He couldn’t tell John all about the game and the rules… Not if he wanted to save John from that sick situation... Let's face the truth though, John will eventually get the rules anyway. But, as long as he was in charge, the guards could not even touch John – otherwise the game would not make any sense, since whoever the man in suit was, he already knew about Sherlock’s sentiment towards John, and was aware, that the detective would agree to any suffering, if that meant saving John.

“They just saw me awake, took me to the other part of the room, and… You know the rest.” he decided to lie. “It’s not that bad, you know. I’ve had worse.”

John looked puzzled. “What is it, that you’re not telling me, Sherlock?” he asked, but before he got an answer, the main door opened, and the bruisers were back, this time with their boss.

“Hello doctor Watson, it’s nice you’ve finally joined us.” He started, scanning Sherlock, who decided to stand up, to look stronger than he in fact was. “Mister Holmes, I see You’ve enjoyed the first round of our game?”

John glanced at Sherlock with the “I-knew-it look” and decided to speak out: “Who are you, and what do you want from us?”

The man laughed. “That is exactly how I imagined you, doctor Watson. I suppose, that your friend will answer all the burning questions you have there, but in the meantime, it’s time for the second round. Mister Holmes, what’s your decision?”

“What decision? Sherlock, what the fuck is going on here??” John approached Sherlock, staring at him, as if he was trying to get all the answers from detective’s face expression. “What is he talking about?”

“I’m ready.” That was all Sherlock said, completely ignoring John, since he knew there was no way of reasoning with his blogger now. As soon as he said that, he lowered his eyes, knowing that he wouldn’t stand John's glance.

The door opened, the two bruisers came in and started dragging Sherlock out. John immediately started fighting, trying to free his friend from the men’s grip, but there was no use, since they were much stronger.

“Let him go! Stop it! Stop!” he was shouting desperately, not achieving anything apart from annoyance of the bruisers. He got pushed back, falling on the floor. Before he stood up again the door was already closed, and the bruisers started beating up Sherlock all over again.

Suddenly John understood the role of the pane-wall. He had to watch his friend suffer, not able to do anything. He started hitting the pane with his fists, yelling at the bruisers to stop, but never before had he been so helpless…

It wasn’t before a few minutes passed, when the real horror started. One of the man went out for a moment and got back with a knuckleduster. Before he made use of it, he approached the pane, and showed it carefully to John with a cruel smile.

“Oh God, don’t…” John slowly crouched, pressed against the pane-wall with nothing but pain in his eyes. “Sherlock…” he whispered.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what You think, and stay tuned! ;*


	4. You're bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John it trying to find out what is going on, but Sherlock is determined to do it all his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes another chapter ;) I hope You'll like it. Sorry for all the typos and mistakes - I do my best to avoid them, but I'm still only human. Enjoy, and let me know what You think!

The glass door opened. Again the bruisers entered, dragging Sherlock in. All John felt at that moment was pure fury. Not thinking much, he just run towards the two men and started hitting. It was probably the adrenaline, that kept him doing so, not thinking about the purpose even for a second. It was his way to cope. He could not stop them from hurting Sherlock so bad, he felt so useless, so extremely angry and so clueless. Why was he out of the whole “game”? Why Sherlock was the one to suffer? Why didn’t he tell him all he knew? With thoughts surging in his head, he continued to punch blindly.

Because of the difference in height and strength between John and the bruisers, they just started laughing, as if the punches were barely pats for them. That was until John punched one of them in their neck so hard, that the man had difficulties breathing for a moment. The other one immediately pushed John onto the ground then, and started punching him.

It might seem strange, but what John felt in that very moment was neither fear nor anything else he should feel in a situation of this kind. He was actually content, in a strange way. He could not explain that, but every punch at least made him feel SOMETHING. For so long he watched Sherlock suffer badly, and could not do anything. ANYTHING.  Was he trying to prove to Sherlock, that he could stand pain too? Or maybe he was trying to punish himself?

Then, the unexpected happened. The main door flew open, and the man in suit came in. He gave his men one meaningful glance and without saying a word, pointed the main door in an insisting gesture. The bruisers immediately rose and walked out.

“Please, accept my deepest apologies, doctor Watson. What’s just happened should not have taken place, and I assure you, that they will suffer the adequate consequences.” Having said that he put a bottle of water into their part of the pane, closed the glass door, and went out. For a moment John tried to spot some cameras around the place – after all, how would the man in suite know what’s happened?

  
“John..” a weak voice roused John from his thoughts.

John collected himself and taking the bottle of water, approached Sherlock.

“I’m here Sherlock, I’m here.” He said, opened the bottle and helped Sherlock drink. “Here. That’s the least we can do now.” At first he wanted to take a sip too, but decided against it. Sherlock will need it much more – he thought. He started examining the detective, trying to be gentle. Considering all the bruises and the amount of blood, which seemed to be everywhere, he knew how much pain his friend must be in.

“John..” Sherlock started again, his voice quiet and dry. “You ok?” he said weakly.

“You’re unbelievable! You’re lying here, barely conscious, your body literally screaming with pain, and you’re asking about my wellbeing?” John was getting agitated, all the frustration coming back to him.

“You’re bleeding.” Sherlock noted.

  
John reflexively touched his face and felt blood all around his right side. He had no clue about when exactly it happened, but clearly adrenaline in his system made him completely unaware of that. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll be good.” He said. “Sherlock, I’ll need you to tell me what you know. And this time without lying. I know it won’t be easy considering your state, but unless we do something, it will only get worse. I have to know. What it this bloody “game” he mentioned?” John felt so bad making Sherlock do anything else than just rest, but he knew he had no other option.

“Have to rest” Sherlock murmured, in hope of avoiding this conversation. Not only didn’t he want to fill John in, so that he would not insist on volunteering  for the next round, but also he was afraid of making his affection too obvious. They’ve been friends, best friends for a long time now. Sherlock had never even dreamt of meeting someone like John, someone so kind-hearted, trustworthy, so warm and strong. Nobody has ever been able to stay with Sherlock for so long, and definitely not for the sake of a genuine friendship. That is exactly why Sherlock was so afraid of even suggesting something more than that. He dreaded losing John forever so much, that he would do everything to hide his feelings. Of course, every so often they were teasing, sometimes even in a quite ambiguous way, but with John repeating over and over again that he was not gay, and correcting people every time they assumed they were a couple, Sherlock was more than sure, that it was just it – friendship. Deeper and more beautiful than he could have dreamt of, but only friendship.

“  
How about I ask, and you just say yes or no? You have to tell me, Sherlock” John was starting to hate himself for forcing a hurt man to talk.

“We have a whole night ahead, please…” Now Sherlock was not even sure, if he was still sticking to his plan, or if he really had to at least take a nap.

“A night you say? I should have known, that you would somehow measure the time.”

You would also count every second, if you’d have spent some time with the guards – thought Sherlock. “We have at least 6 hours, I think. It’s so cold..”

“Oh God, you’re shivering.” John put his palm on detective’s forehead. He was feverish, which came as no surprise considering the temperature in the basement. “Sherlock, we’ll have to move you closer to the wall. Do you think you could do that?”

“John… I… plan… must save… please” Sherlock was clearly confused and started raving. John decided to try realising his plan. First, he grabbed his jacket, still lying on the floor, and put it by the wall, where he was planning to place Sherlock. After that he gently helped Sherlock stand up, and then, putting Sherlocks arm around his neck and grabbing his waist for support, they started making small steps towards the wall. It seemed to be further, and further away, but they finally got there. John helped Sherlock sit. Then he sat himself, his back leaning against the wall. He pulled Sherlock closer to him, put his arm around the poor detective, so that Sherlock’s head rested on John’s chest. He was hoping, that this way they would share the warmth of their bodies, which could hopefully help them survive the night.

  
  
Sherlock reflexively curled up to John’s side, still shivering. “It’ll be all right, Sherlock. Just rest now.” He said, blanketing Sherlock with his jacket.

  
  
There was a long, sleepless night ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave a comment, and stay tuned! ;*


	5. Doctor's order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sherlock, you’re safe now. I’m here with you. You’ve been very brave and strong.” As John noticed, that it helps, he continued: “It’s ok. I’ll get you out of here, I promised – remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here!  
> I hope You'll like it! Writing it was more difficult than writing the previous chapters, but I'm learning a lot thanks to that experiance.  
> Please, let me know what You think, it means a lot to me! ;)

They’ve been sitting in the same position for about an hour, before Sherlock had completely stopped shivering. The plan was quite good after all, John thought. Looking at Sherlock sleeping, comforted John in a way. They say that sleep it the best medicine, right? Nevertheless, it was rather a calm before a storm, since their capturers would come back at some point… Sherlock started stirring uneasily as if he could hear John’s thoughts. John started to pet Sherlock’s head and whispered words of comfort to his ear:

 

“Sherlock, you’re safe now. I’m here with you. You’ve been very brave and strong.” As John noticed, that it helps, he continued: “It’s ok. I’ll get you out of here, I promised – remember?”.

 

If only John knew how to make it happen… Sherlock was the genius. He was always the one to come up with a brilliant plan and save the day. And now, he was lying there, curled up on John’s side, so weak and injured. He seemed to be so fragile and small, in a way.

John knew, that he couldn’t just let it go on. He couldn’t let Sherlock suffer, and feel alone in that. He couldn’t for both medical and… emotional reasons. Although he would never admit it in front of Sherlock, he’s known for a while now, that what he feels towards Sherlock is something more than just friendship. He knew he loved that high functioning sociopath, despite all his flaws and strange habits. And watching him being so badly beaten, all bruised, bleeding, and barely conscious because of the pain, made his heart break into pieces. He hated the man in suit, hated his bruisers and hated himself, for being so useless.

Everybody knew though, that Sherlock was married to his work. What is more, if Sherlock was to fall in love after all, he would not fall for John, for obvious reasons. Such a genius belongs with someone as extraordinary and special. And John… Well, he was just a regular bloke, with a rather average IQ and a boring life. That is exactly, why he bothered with informing everybody about his heterosexuality and that was why he was dating. He had to be sure, that Sherlock won’t know, and also he was hoping to secure his future and find a benevolent woman to spent his autumn years with. The problem was, that compared to Sherlock all his dates seemed so dull…

 

“Sherlock… If only you knew…” he whispered, gently brushing away Sherlock’s hair from his face.

“Knew what exactly?” Sherlock’s response made John flinch. He had been sure, that Sherlock was asleep.

“Sherlock, I thought you were still asleep. How do you feel?” he asked a bit embarrassed, quickly removing his palm from detective’s head.

“It’s better, I think. What is it, that I don’t know?” And he’s back, John thought – he must be really feeling much better.

“Let’s start with what you do know, but don’t want to share, Sherlock. You can now tell me. Please, I have to know, so that I can help.” He was not angry, or exasperated at this point. He was just really concerned.

“John I…” Sherlock started, but didn’t actually know what to say. John just wanted to help (as always), and it was obvious that he was worried. He will definitely try to interfere and volunteer for the next round, but not telling him, was no longer an option. Sherlock finally understood that.

“It turns out, that we solved the case…” As Sherlock was explaining the whole case, John started wondering why didn’t he move yet. They remained in the same position he had arranged them in earlier that night, with Sherlock’s head resting on John’s chest. He must be still too weak to move – John thought. “That is why he decided to kidnap us. We were too close, and sooner or later his business would be at risk.”

“Sounds like he won’t let us escape that easy, will he” John asked looking at the top of Sherlock’s head. “And the game?”

“It’s just his twisted way of entertainment. Killing us on the spot would be too boring, so he invented the game of torture.”

“Ok, but why do they treat you as a punchbag and not only let me be, but even follow my orders, as it was with the ropes?”

“It… it’s one of the rules. Though the ropes surprised me too.”

“What do you mean one of the rules? Sherlock, please.” There was something so sympathetic in John’s voice, which made it much easier for Sherlock to spill the beans.

“I’m the one to decide who’s to be tortured each round. As long as I volunteer, they can’t touch you” Sherlock answered, speaking more and more quietly, finishing the sentence almost whispering.

“Sherlock…” John started, trying hard to collect his thoughts. “You know it’s not your fault, right? That we’re here, I mean. You should have told me. We have to share the rounds accordingly to our state. You’ve already been severely beaten twice, and now feverish. Not to mention, that you haven’t eaten for days, since you never eat on a case, do you? I’m the volunteer for the next round and there is no reasoning with that. Consider it a doctor’s order, if you like.” He was so convinced and peremptory, but Sherlock hurried to object:

“No. That is the exact thing I wanted to avoid, and the reason, why I didn’t tell you the first time you asked, John.”

“So what, what’s your plan?” now John was clearly getting angry. “You want to die here, or what? As your doctor I can’t and won’t let that happen. Besides, what then? We don’t seem to have any chances of escaping for now, so unless we start acting in a more reasonable way, they will…” John’s voice cracked slightly at that point “they will kill you. And I don’t think that they’ll just give me a lift to Baker Street then, and whish me all best afterwards.”

  
For a moment they both remained silent. John calming down, regretting his harsh tone, and Sherlock trying to find some words. He couldn’t believe, that he had been so short-sighted. Caring is not an advantage – these words made much more sense now. He was trying to save John from being beaten up, at the same time not thinking about anything that was to happen later. Still, he just couldn’t allow John to volunteer…

  
“Look, I’m sorry.” John started. “It’s not easy, especially for you, considering your state. All I’m saying is… That I can’t watch you suffer not being able to do anything. I’m begging you, Sherlock...” he didn’t finish, interrupted by a sudden attack of cough.

“John, put on your jacket, please. I’m fine for now, and you’re cold.” Said Sherlock, sitting up. For the first time in this conversation they could look into each other’s eyes. And with this single glance, they exchanged much more than they could with words – the mutual concern and just a little bit of fear.

  
  
They didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. It seemed that they got to a point, in which neither of them knew what to say or do next. Sitting arm in arm and breathing slowly, they both were analysing the situation and reliving the one, powerful glance they had shared that night, unable to admit exactly what they feel about one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave a comment and stay tuned! ;)


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